


Too Much to Drink

by orphan_account



Category: Justified
Genre: Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post Season 4, post 4x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Arlo's death, Raylan says he's fine.  He knows he's fine.  But something still bothers him a bit, even after a few drinks.  </p><p>AKA the one where Tim visits Raylan after Arlo dies because he wants to make sure he's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much to Drink

**Author's Note:**

> I'm way too deep in this ship.

Raylan was already buzzed when the knock came.

It was barely an hour ago since he had arrived home, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and drank. 

Then another glass.

And another. 

It took a lot to get a man like Raylan Givens even half-drunk, but enough bourbon and he'd get there. 

He felt his thoughts begin to slip just a bit, his vision just barely blurring. The old man's face had been stuck in his head all day. 

He'd get there.

There was a sharp knock.

Raylan set down his glass and pushed himself upwards, steadying his body. He headed for the door. He hadn't any idea who it was or what they wanted, and he wasn't exactly thrilled with their timing. Raylan was busy. Busy getting shitfaced, but nonetheless, busy. 

"Tim."

Raylan leaned against the doorframe, eyeing his visitor with marginal contempt.

Could've been worse.

Could've been Boyd. 

"Raylan."

"What're you doing here?" he asked. 

Tim shrugged. "Mind letting me in?" 

Raylan paused. "I might. Depends on why you're here."

Another half-hearted shrug, accompanied by a slight tilt of the head. "To talk." 

"You don't just talk," Raylan said disbelievingly, but shifted himself aside to allow Tim in. 

Tim sat on the edge of the dresser and watched Raylan reposition himself on the bed to down the rest of his glass.

There was a long silence.

Tim eyed the half-empty bottle sitting near him. 

"You been drinkin' much tonight?" he asked. He and Raylan both knew that the question served no purpose. Tim would bet good money that the bottle had been full just an hour or two ago. 

Raylan's lip quirked. "Just a bit."

Tim let out a quick laugh, barely more than a breath. 

"Well, Gutterson," Raylan sighed, "You came here to talk. Talk."

"Hm." was all Tim said. Now Raylan was becoming annoyed. Sure, Tim wasn't exactly talkative, but that only meant there was a good reason he interrupted Raylan. A reason that he wasn't getting to fast enough.

Finally, Tim strung a few more words together. "Just wanted to see how you are."

"Oh, for God's sa-- Did Art send you?" 

Tim was quick to dismiss it. "No, no. I am here--" he tapped the dresser he was seated on-- "of my own free will." 

"Mmhmm." Raylan got up and poured himself another glass, then returned to the bed. "And why, pray tell, would that be?"

"Just... a check-up, I suppose." Tim said.

"Ah. And what, may I ask--" Raylan drank the whole glass in one gulp-- "led you to believe I would need a... check-up?" He emphasized the last words hard, spitting them out like a bad taste. 

"Dunno." Tim stared down at the wood of the dresser, tracing his finger along the grain. "You sure you're all right?" 

"Jesus, of course I am." 

There was a pause that seemed endless, the only noise being Raylan's finger tapping the glass lightly. 

"He was shit," Raylan said finally.

Tim looked up.

"Shit at everything. Shit dad, shit human being. Only thing he was remotely good at was breakin' the law. World's better off without him."

Tim wouldn't argue that point. No one knew and despised the exploits of Arlo Givens more than his son.

Raylan was quiet. His hands started to tighten shakily on the glass he was holding.

He took a deep breath. 

"So why...?" Raylan trailed off and hung his head. "Why do I-- He was--" 

He felt the bed shift as Tim sat down next to him. 

Raylan wouldn't look at him. 

"Really thought I cut him out. Cut him out enough that I didn't have a shred of goddamn feeling left for his sorry ass except the occasional bit of disdain." He knew he was spilling too much, that he was talking more than he should. He really did have too much bourbon. 

Raylan felt his eyes sting and he immediately sucked a breath inward. There was no way in hell he'd shed tears over Arlo Givens. Not in front of Tim. Not in front of anyone. 

He almost laughed, because what do you know, Arlo Givens was still a pain in his ass, even from the grave. 

Raylan felt a tentative hand on his shoulder. He had half a mind to shake it off, but really, there wouldn't be any point. 

"Piece of shit's always gonna be a thorn in my side," Raylan muttered, watching the very last drops of bourbon shine in his glass. Tim withdrew his hand gently. 

Raylan leaned back onto the bed, allowing the empty glass to fall from his grip and drop to the ground. "Well," he said to Tim, "Did you get what you came for?" 

"I suppose." Tim stood and headed slowly for the door, never taking his eyes from Raylan. 

"I guess I'll be taking my leave, then?" It wasn't a statement. 

As he watched Tim's hand on the doorknob, something nagged at Raylan. Something that made him say--

"Got somewhere else to be?" 

Tim had the barest hint of a smile. "Guess not."  
His hand slipped off the doorknob and he walked back.

Raylan couldn't shake the unusual sense of relief it brought when he felt the bed sink more under Tim's weight.

He leaned back next to Raylan. "Comfy," he said quietly.

"Mm." 

Tim turned to stare at the wall above the bed. "Ooh, not a fan of this, though." 

Raylan rolled over to take a look.

"What, you don't like that?"

"Nah. Not your color."

"Well, what is my color?" 

Tim turned back. He barely contained a noise of surprise. Raylan was so close that their noses were barely an inch apart.

He didn't move. He wouldn't back down. 

"Dunno." Tim said. "Somethin' more toned down, maybe." He felt his heart thundering. 

"Oh?" Raylan let out a quiet little laugh. His breath was heavy with the smell of bourbon. "No hot pink, then?" 

"Well, for a spectacle like Raylan Givens in hot pink, an exception could be made."

They both laughed.

It felt like hours before either of them said anything. 

Raylan broke the silence with a grunt of, "Gettin' another," and a movement to pick up his fallen glass. 

Tim frowned. "You don't think you've had enough?" 

"I do not, in fact, think I've had enough. Your input's appreciated." Raylan swallowed down another glass with ease. "I think you'll find that I'm fully functional." 

Tim raised an eyebrow as he eyed the barely-perceptible stumble of Raylan's feet. 

He turned his attention back to the ceiling and let out a sigh. "Whatever you say." He waited for Raylan to return to the mattress. 

And then there was a sudden weight on him, making Tim's heart nearly burst out his chest, because dear god, he wasnt exactly sure why or how, but Raylan Givens was on top of him.

"I- aha- okay, now I know you've really had too much to drink, and-" Tim tried to hide just how flustered he was. 

" 'M fine," Raylan murmured. "Don't appreciate you questionin' my ability to hold my liquor, Gutterson." 

Raylan dipped his head forward, placing his weight on his forearms, and his forehead touched Tim's. That was definitely not helping the fact that Tim could hear his heart pounding in his ears or that the room was suddenly very, very warm. 

"Alright, I'm not questioning anything, so-" 

Raylan moved his head to the side. His hair brushed along Tim's skin.

"Hey. Thanks." As Raylan spoke, Tim could feel his breath on his ear. 

Tim took a shaky breath. "For?" 

Raylan didn't say anything. 

Tim waited. 

And waited. 

Then he heard a soft snore. 

"Oh, for the love of- get the hell off me, goddammit." Tim shoved Raylan off. He mumbled something incomprehensible and furrowed his eyebrows in his sleep. 

"You're such a dick," Tim groaned. 

Shaking his head, he got up and immediately headed for the door. 

He looked back at Raylan, who was now sprawled out on the bed like an unceremonious starfish, peacefully asleep. 

Tim hated how stupidly good Raylan still looked. 

He also hated how fast his heart was still beating. And how the room just didn't seem to cool down. 

He'd get Raylan back for that one of these days.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
